Parental Guidance Suggested
by COFF33MAN1A
Summary: Two grown men and a twelve year old girl are stuck together for two long weeks during a soccer tournament. Here’s the challenge: Who can be the most mature? NaruSasu.


Two grown men and a twelve year old girl stuck together for two long weeks. Here's the challenge: Who can be the most mature? NaruSasu.

**This story will, partially, be told from the eyes of a twelve year old girl. And yes, she is my own creation, so I can at least claim her as my own. The other parts, and perhaps the better parts, will be told from third person. **

**x.X.x**

When you live in a house with a father who is a bit insane, and probably suicidal, you have a different outlook on the world than a normal child. When your father comes home every night without a clue as to where he was just fifteen minutes ago. It's a wonder that he can actually remember the way home. Perhaps it's because he's been doing it your whole life. But hey, you're used to it. When you grow up in a home where your mother left when you were only an infant, and your father is a drunken bastard half the time. You learn to make your own way in life.

The woman who bore you, generally the woman you call 'mother' is the one person you know you can trust. But when that woman thrusts you into your father's arms when you're not quite a year old, that trusting bond is broken. Without a mother's love, how is a girl supposed to grow into a strong, mature woman?

I ask myself that every morning, and I always get the same answer.

I wake up every morning to the stench of burnt toast—my father trying to do something right for once. His attempts always fail. I can't hate him, he's one of the reasons I'm here in this hellhole. Yeah, his penis and a large bottle of vodka previously consumed between him and his girlfriend. That's why I'm here. No one ever wanted me. That's why she left him, because she couldn't take the goddamned responsibility that was suddenly thrust upon her.

You can't blame the man for having a daughter who is a bit more attuned to the world you live in than any normal twelve year old girl. I suppose it's not his fault that I notice that he's drunk when he gets home at night. And those scars on his wrists, yeah, I noticed them long ago. It's almost like super powers the way I'm tuned into his world—the world of adults. I'm probably more mature than most of them, anyway. And honestly, I don't mean to brag, but I've seen the way they act. Like a bunch of big babies.

He used to have a brain, but when the part about being a father crashed down on his head. Well… let's just say, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. His was children. From the time I was little, I knew he despised me. Not because I was his daughter, his responsibility. No, I don't think he ever hated me for that, but it was because I was a child once.

My babysitter says I'm growing up too fast. I told her she is too, in just a few years she's going to be one of the only twenty eight year olds with wrinkles on her face from using so much makeup.

Yeah, I get my social skills from my father.

So maybe I am growing up to fast. I'm the eighth grade loser. No one likes me because I'm a twelve year old, and I can kick their sorry asses in every test. I've never gotten lower than an A in my life.

I get my brains from my father as well.

And in all honesty, I never thought about having fun in my life. I always go straight home after school and do my homework while sipping on a large mug of hot cocoa. After I finish, I turn on the TV to watch the latest news until my father gets home. Once he's home, I begin preparing dinner.

I never thought of changing the routine until now. My babysitter, Sakura, told my father about me growing up too quickly. The damn bitch always gets in the way. She sits by the TV and watches those damned reality shows until I finish my homework and boot her off the TV. It's not like we don't have one downstairs, she just likes the nice flat screen. But she decided, since my father seemed incapable, that she would enroll me in after school soccer. We practice every day from three until five, and games every Saturday, what a waist of life.

He still manages to go to every game, no matter how bad the hangover. At least he seems to be having fun, which is all that really matters to me. Though I know he's never truly happy. Not since his girlfriend left twelve years ago.

I can't help but think it's my fault, but my father tells me never to worry, that I didn't do anything. But he still won't tell me her name. I know all he wants to do is forget about her, not tell his daughter, even though Sakura says I'm going through that period of time, the one where kids question where they came from, and what they're going to be like when they're adults.

As long as I'm not a bitch like my mother, I'll be fine. I'm not going to break a boy's heart like she broke my father's heart. I've seen him deal with the pain, if you could call that dealing. And no one has to go through as much as he has in his lifetime. It's unbearable.

But Sakura says I won't have to worry, I'm more like him than I am like her. I'm the same pessimistic jerk, to put it kindly. Honestly, I think she'd have no problem going out with him if he were to ask her. But he won't, because he's not that type of guy, and I don't think she's his type of women anyway.

I just wish there was a 'his type'.

x.X.x

My soccer game calls at six-fucking-o'clock. I'm hardly a morning person, but Sakura sure as hell is. She starts by pulling the covers off of me, and then proceeds to pour icy water all over my face. That would wake anyone up, especially when she's screaming at you as an added bonus.

I guess she wakes my father up the same way, because I didn't get my hatred of morning from nowhere. I can see the bags under his eyes as he sits down at the breakfast table, but he insists that he's okay. Of course, I don't believe him, but I don't push it or he'll become irritable, and who wants to ride in the car with a cranky bastard?

"Hey Konohamaru," I grumble as I pass my teammate before the game starts.

"Hey, Akira, wanna warm up together?" he's always too full of energy. I have to admit, I hate it, but I try to be a kid for my father. He likes seeing me happy, so I pretend I am, even when I'm not.

"Uchiha!" a loud growl saves me from having to warm up with Konohamaru. I try not to sigh in relief, but boys at this age are too full of sugar to be worth anything to me. As I said before, not a people person.

"What happen to Coach Kakashi?" I ask, crossing my arms at the blonde who stands in the coach's place. He's got the clipboard, he's in charge, but I don't give a flying fuck. I never do.

"He has business," the man growls. He has a temper, but not the kind that my father has. Sure good ole Daddy can be a jerk, but this guy. For one, you can tell he hates everyone here just by looking at his face; and for two, he just looked like he woke up from a nice dream about, I don't know… ramen, and would rather be dead than be here with a bunch of sweaty twelve year olds.

Can't say I don't blame him.

"Uchiha, you going to the soccer tournament?" the new coach asked. I raised an eyebrow. In all honesty, I don't remember a damn thing about a soccer tournament.

"I'd have to ask my father," I replied sourly, _Ask him if I could stay home_, I added bitterly in my head. Of course he'd want me to go. Or rather, Sakura would tell me he wanted me to go. In all honesty, I don't think my father cares that much, if he did, he'd be caring more what I wanted rather than what Sakura wanted for me.

Sometimes I think they're like a married couple themselves. Always fighting and yelling. at least he's on my side most of the time. _He _doesn't care if I'm growing up twenty times faster than any other child my age.

"Aight," the coach yells as he writes something on his clip board. I flinch, not because he's loud, but because he's using a really bad fake New York accent. For the first time in my life, I miss Kakashi, and that's really saying something.

The new coach calls the team over; we have about a minute before the game is scheduled to start. I wonder if he's even going to tell us who he is, or is he going to be as much a mystery as Kakashi was.

Konohamaru comes up and stands next to me. I want to roll my eyes and push him away. I know he has a crush on me, Sakura 'the boy genius' tells me that all the time, but I just can't help but feel annoyed at his closeness. It's not like my father wasn't completely rejected by the person he loved most.

Yeah, love is kinda a sensitive topic in my family, so I'm really not one to dive right into a relationship, and neither is he.

The coach frowns. "Don't all your parents come to the damn games too?" half the kids begin to giggle because oh joy, he said 'damn' big whoop. I roll my eyes and the blonde coach's eyes rest on me. He raises his eyebrows. He knows there's something different about me. Maybe not because he's a psychologist, but because I'm the only kid who's not wiping my eyes from laughing so hard just because he's cursed.

"I've heard worse," I growl, knowing he's not going to continue on with his speech until I say something. I'm just egging him on now, bragging almost. At least it shuts half the kids up. Though now they're looking at me as if I just challenged the coach. And yeah, I sort of did.

"Oh really?" the challenge was on. I smiled innocently. If there was one thing I was good at, it was giving an innocent smile. I gave him a small nod.

"Parents fight a lot?"

"Just my father and babysitter,"

"And your mom?"

"Don't got one,"

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"I don't even know you, Brat, how would I know?"

I frowned. Obnoxious ass. "I'm twelve." I reminded him, "twelve year olds don't make good liars,"

"I beg to differ,"

"Thirty seconds until the game starts," I growled, narrowing my dark eyes at him, waiting for him to finish his speech.

He cleared his throat, "Anyway, my name is Naruto Uzumaki," he rolled his cerulean eyes. "I'm going to be your soccer coach for now because Kakashi decided to just pack up and go on a cruise." He groaned, I'm sure he'd much rather be in bed. It _was_ a Saturday after all, I didn't blame him.

"So why'd he leave?" one kid asked. I admired his boldness. It seemed that half the kids here were terrified of the blonde.

Naruto shrugged, "No fucking idea," some wimpy kid burst into tears, everyone else began laughing again. I gave him a raised eyebrow. "Better, princess?" he asked me. Did he really curse like that on purpose?

"I guess so," I shrugged. Why did I care? Oh, right, because I was the one pushing him to do better than just 'damn'. "I've still heard worse,"

"Doubtful,"

"I'll have you be the judge of that," I offered over my shoulder, turning to the referee who blew his whistle a minute before. I could almost feel Naruto rolling his eyes at my turned back.

"I wasn't done talking,"

"Game's starting, genius," I tossed over my back, not even bothering to turn around. I hear him sigh, but he lets me go, as well as the rest of the team.

x.X.x

The game was long, terrible, and it started drizzling midway through the game. So, basically, we got disgustingly wet and muddy, and it was really gross. Yes, I can be very mature, but I'm still a girl, and when it comes to being wet and dirty… well, I don't particularly like it all too much.

Not to mention that we lost. I may hate soccer, but I'm still competitive by nature, and I still enjoy winning, even if it's winning a game I most despise.

"How was the game?" my father asks, raising an eyebrow. We have the same expressions most of the time. Right now was no excuse.

"Weren't you watching?"

"I well… no,"

"Didn't think so," I roll my eyes. He never watches, just sits there pretending to know what's going on. _His_ parents didn't force him to play soccer as a child.

"Uchiha!" I can hear Naruto's voice from across the field. "Team meeting. Here now."

"Coming," I roll my eyes.

My dad sees that, "Don't give him a tough time, Akira," he folds his arms across his chest. Yeah, he knows I'm going to. It's an Uchiha habit, he does it too.

"Yes daddy," I mumble. Damn, there goes my fun.

"Where's your normal coach?" My father asks, at least he noticed that my coach was no longer an aloof ass who didn't care what the hell we did as long as we won games. No, my awesome coach was replaced with this retard.

"He… left…"

"Probably couldn't stand your attitude,"

"Right, cuz it was my fault," I began walking across the field, my father following just one step behind. I'm not really sure why though; he's never really been interested in my stuff anyway.

"Knowing you," he scoffed. He placed an arm on my head and ruffled my hair. Great, now it was even more messed up than before.

"Uchiha!" that grating voice growls out again. I begin running this time. I skid to a stop next to some drooling baby. I never managed to get his name, nor did I really care. "Uchiha, tournament is coming up in a week, you in?"

"I have to ask my father, we already discussed this."

"Uchiha's father," Naruto calls to my dad, he's about three feet away now, crossing his arms as he listens to our boring team meeting. "Is your kid coming to the tournament or not?"

"Dad, do I have—"

"Sure," I turn and give him a hard stare. Uchiha's are good at that, I may add, "Why not, Akira. Spend some quality time with your friends,"

"What frie—"

"Great," Naruto writes something on his clipboard, probably a 'make sure uchiha is across the hotel' note in the margin of his paper. "Now, we just need one chaperone,"

"C'mon dad, meet some hot chicks," I elbow my dad, joking around a bit. I wouldn't exactly mind if he came, actually.

"You wanna come, Uchiha's father?"

"Sasuke, my name is _Sasuke_,"

"Sure, bastard," Naruto rolled his eyes. "You comin'?"

"What have I got to loose," he gave up. My mouth fell open. What? Did he just… he did just agree to that didn't he?

"Dad, what about your work?"

"Screw that,"

"But you have a job—"

"They can deal without me for a few… how long is it going to be?"

"One week, two if we get into the finals,"

"I'll clear my schedule,"

"Where do you work?" Was that curiosity in Coach Naruto's eyes? I didn't peg him for the kind of guy who gave a damn.

"Konoha Hospital,"

_Which is why he's there every other night from alcohol poisoning,_ I wanted to add bitterly, but I held my tongue.

"Really?"

"I just said that, Dobe,"

"You know Dr. Tsunade?"

"She owns the damn place,"

"Yeah, well, she's my aunt,"

My dad raised his eyebrows, "I never would have guessed," he muttered.

"Why not?" Naruto crossed his arms. "Don't we look alike?"

"Not at all, Usuratonkachi," Sasuke growled, "She's much less… stupid,"

"I am not—" he was cut off from the laughter of his new twelve year old soccer team.

"See you in a week, then?"

"Sure, Bastard,"

Sasuke smirked and began walking away. I followed after him, surprised when he wrapped his arm around my small shoulders.

"are you really going to do this?"

"Why not, your new coach sounds…" he paused, thinking for the right word, "interesting…"

I can't believe this.

**x.X.x**

**okay, the majority of the rest of the story won't be told from Akira's point of view, but I kinda wanted to start with her opinion on things. plus, she's incredibly fun to write about. She's a very interesting character, that's for sure. Very mature for her age, and annoyed at the world. She reminds me of Sasuke when he's her age… which is kinda what I based her off of XD**

**So, you know the drill… I write a chapter, and you review it. **

**x.X.x**

**next chapter:** sasuke and akira get ready for the tournament. Not to mention the wonderful part where Sasuke has to tell his boss where he's going… XD


End file.
